Wait. The watchtowers.
Whythe watchtowers?Whythe border reinforcements?
Was it all forhim?Did the Councilknow?DidMichaelknow?
Wasthiswhy Michael hated him? Why his projects kept being turned down?
Luc’s stomach churned. His vision swam. He leaned against the obelisk’s cool stone, gulping in aether and not getting enough.
Luc rubbed his face, trying to scrub the vision from his brain, but it remained there. Lila had been right. The Council wasn’t to be trusted.No onewas to be trusted.
But of course, Lila was right. She was always right. She had no business being right! Luc was the brightest angel! The most brilliant one. He was the herald of a glorious age, not a…a…
Wheezing for breath, he clutched his chest and sank down beside the obelisk. He turned over every interaction he’d ever had for a clue that someone had known about his vision. Because someone knew—someonehadto know—and that someone had stayed quiet and had, most definitely, convinced others to stay quiet.
And to what end? Why lie to him? Why not just…cast him into the Void and be done with him?
Luc didn’t know. He only knew, with more and more encroaching certainty, that his vision was the reason he’d been put on the Council. He’d always been told that it was, of course, but now he knew it was not because he was destined to do great things among the angels. It was so the Council could monitor him and his activities. So they could monitor his ideas—and stamp them out.
He’d thought it strange that Michael had allowed him to join the Council when the warrior held him in such contempt. But at the time, he’d believed that even Michael couldn’t deny his genius. His destiny. Or that, perhaps, Michael was bowing to the wishes of the majority. Or the wishes of the outgoing architect, Hadri.
And of every possible betrayal, the knowledge that Hadri had betrayed him stung the worst. No wonder he’d refused to tell Luc what he knew of his vision. Yet, from their first meeting, he’d been intensely interested in Luc. He’d taken him into his confidence and badgered him into sharing his ideas. He’d volunteered to mentor Luc, and Luc had never asked him why; instead, he’d believed he was so special that of course the Council architect had nothing better to do than supervise his trivial student projects.
What a fool he’d been.
Bent over on his knees and forearms, Luc stared at the Void, and theVoid stared back at him. Was it laughing at him? Had it known the whole time? Did the angels live in the Void’s stomach, as Lila had suggested? Was the Void about to spew him out, a seed it hadn’t meant to swallow?
And what of the Creator? Surely,Heknew who Luc was.WhatLuc was.
Was Luc the reason He’d moved on from the angels? Why He hid out in the Void?
Somehow, that made a terrible, cruel sense.
What fool would tend to a world that is destined to destroy itself?
Luc pressed his forehead to the marble platform, trying to ground himself on it, but the roiling of his stomach and the chaos of his thoughts wouldn’t cease. There were too many questions with no answers that only led to more questions with no answers. Or answers he didn’t like.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there, bent double, only that, at some point, the questions gave way to memories, and his fears gained flesh. The scenes of his existence flickered behind his eyelids, and they should have been familiar to him, but he saw them for the first time.
One and a Half Aeons Pre-Great War
The news that the Great Hall would be completed in time for Luc’s graduation had struck Luc with an emotion he couldn’t name. An emotion that roiled in his gut, quickened his heartbeat, and stiffened his muscles. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling since.
Presently, all students who were interested in applying to the architect program were attending a private banquet held in the massive, partially finished complex, where they could ask questions of the masters who were overseeing the project and meet their potential mentors for the program. Normally, Luc would have been excited to learn from architects of such high standing, and he knew he was expected to contribute to the discussion, but amid the general fervor, he picked at his food and spoke to no one. It was a given that he would join the program anyway; surely, there would be no shortage of mentors willing to take him on. Sitting at the far end of the feast, he could scarcely bear to look at the walls.
It was just…the project was coming to an end. It had taken all of his existence, but soon, it would be done. And just in time for Luc to miss it.
For so long, Luc had passed by the grand structure of creamy stone during lessons excursions. And for so long, he had imagined that he would become an architect soon enough to contribute something to its design. His scrolls were full of sketches: a pillar, an arch, a buttress, a vault. Fountains and columns. Sculptures and spires.
It didn’t matter.
And perhaps this was irrational, but Luc had the gnawing feeling that all the best projects were being completed and by the time he finished his training, there would be none left. He knew he was exceptional, and he had his new world project, but…he’d hit several snags with that idea, and he feared he would never unravel them. He feared his project wouldn’t hold up to his visions of it.
He couldn’t talk to his classmates about it; they wouldn’t understand. And he wouldn’t talk to his instructors until he had something impressive to show them.
Sometimes, being a visionary was a lonely occupation.
“May I sit?”
